Beauty Shot (Hope Parish Novels Book 5) (6 page)

The door opened and
Verity hissed. “Minnie, come on. The guests are arriving and
everyone
is asking about Deke. It wouldn’t hurt to have him photographed
in that tux. Sorry, Deke,” she said as she left, leaving the
door ajar.

“You want me
to do a photo op?” I asked.

#

Minnie

What I wanted was to
shove my hands into that mass of wheat-colored hair and pull his
mouth against mine. Hard. I suspected he got that wit from what I was
sure was a close-to-genius IQ, the git.

“It’s
all about selling my designs and, at the risk of blowing your big
head up even further, you look smart in that tux.”

“Smart?”

“Dashing.
Smashing.”

“Oh, go
ahead,” he said, his heartbreaking blue eyes dancing. “Blow
up my head.”

I shoved a hand
against his chest instead of giving into temptation. “Aw, go on
with you,” I said, and turned away.

Breathing a sigh of
relief that I had put his clothes on instead of taking them off, I
went through the door and down the stairs. Deke came down, and the
room went nuts. Conversation exploded and cameras clicked constantly.
I turned to look up, and even though I had just caught my breath, I
lost it again. He stood at the top of the stairs, his light hair
shining against the black of the tux jacket that fit superbly across
those broad shoulders of his.

The murmur died down
as he walked down the stairs and was immediately accosted by several
women. I felt an ugly twinge.

I tried to let it
go. He wasn’t for me. He smiled, and I turned away, grabbing a
flute of champagne. Hopefully this would all blow over by the end of
Fashion Week, and then Deke would be back at Columbia and I would be
hard at work on my fall collection.

“Minnie,”
Verity said. “Are you all right?”

“I’m
smashing.”

When I started on my
second flute, she said, “You’re getting smashed, you
mean.”

“So? It’s
our party and, luv, we were a hit.”

I lifted my glass
and clinked it with Verity’s. “Thank you for taking a
chance on me,” she said, blinking hard, her voice clogged. “I
don’t know what I would have done without you last year.”

“You would
have survived, my sweet. Because you are a fighter.”

She dashed at the
tear sliding down her cheek, looking over at Boone. “I didn’t
know I could be this happy. He’s so wonderful, sweet and…”

“Swoonworthy?”

“Yes,”
she laughed. “The Boone Swoon is alive and well.”

“And you have
your son Duel back. You deserve your happy ending.”

She touched my arm
and squeezed. I loved this little Southern beauty, and I was so glad
for her. She had gone through the ringer last year. It had been easy
to first think she needed a shoulder to lean on, but I soon realized
what a trooper she was. She deserved Boone. She had fought her
father, the town, and a psycho to make it real. She was a talented,
wonderful young woman, and I was proud to call her both my friend and
my partner. This business was cutthroat at best, and it felt good to
know Verity would always have my back.

Her hand tightened,
and she shook me slightly. “I would love to see you happy.”

There wasn’t a
man in this world I would trust to do that. “I need to make
my
self
happy. Men like Boone don’t come along often. Most of them want
one thing and then bolt after they get it.”

Her eyes softened at
Boone’s name. “Aw, Minnie. There are a lot of guys who
care, who stick around.”

“Sure.”
I wrapped my arm around her shoulders for a brief hug. “Not
been my experience, though.”

“You seemed
pretty cozy up there with Deke.” She gave me a nudge.

I laughed and nudged
her back. “Bloody hell. Deke is a baby, and I have four…now
five years on him since I just celebrated my birthday. He’s a
freshman, for God’s sake, and I have a business to run. But,”
I said before I could curb the impulse, “he is a very beautiful
boy.”

“I remember
the first time I saw him. Taller than Boone, all those golden good
looks, and still I could only see Boone.”

“Looks like
he’s having the same problem,” I said as Boone came
across the room and snuggled up to his wife, nuzzling her neck.

“Congratulations,”
he said in that deep, dreamy Southern accent that had to be the
sexiest sound on the planet. “Looks like you and Minnie made
it, darlin’.” He kissed her, and that was my cue to
leave, but I grabbed another flute as the waiter went by.

The night wore on,
and I did the chit-chat and the banter and had a very nice time.
Although four glasses of champagne on an empty stomach hadn’t
been such a grand idea. I headed for the balcony with several pieces
of cheese, but I was tipsy. Time for a bit of fresh air. The breeze
was on the nippy side, but I didn’t care. It helped wake me up.

A jacket slipped
around my shoulders, warm and smelling like Deke. I turned to find
him standing there in his evening wear looking like he’d just
stepped out of a glossy men’s magazine.

When he turned his
head to look out over the city, golden stubble caught the lamplight.
Something inside me caved in, ached, and I felt my loneliness as
keenly as a knife’s edge. I wanted to go to bed, and I should,
before I said or did something completely foolish.

He was just not on
the same page with me. His age was an insurmountable barrier between
us. It wouldn’t be fair for me to take that step and then
regret it. He was just beginning his life, and I was thoroughly
ensconced in mine. And I would look pathetic to anyone in my circle
if I got involved with him. I’d never succumbed to one of my
models, even when I was much younger. It was the kind of thing Angela
did. Not me. My eye had always been on the ball, and it would stay
there. Didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy looking at him.

“It’s
not anything like the bayou, with its rosy glow and the soft sounds
of bullfrogs and crickets, but in its way it’s beautiful.”
Oh, damn, he sounded even sexier than he looked, his voice low and
smooth.

The longing in his
voice to me he was homesick, which softened me. He stirred me in so
many unexpected ways, and more than anyone else I had ever met. It
was a dangerous feeling.

“It’s a
dirty, overcrowded city,” I said.

He looked at me and
my heart tripped a little. “You’re cynical?”

“I’ve
been in the U.S. for most of my adult life.”

“Where are you
from?” He folded his arms and propped one of those lean hips
against the balcony wall.

“I haven’t
been back to Kent in such a long time. London, yes, but not Kent.”

“What’s
it like?”

It was only because
his homesickness seemed to rub off on me that I decided to answer. I
knew getting cozy with Deke wasn’t a good idea, but…
“Talk about beauty,” I said. “It’s not
described as the garden of England for nothing. It sits on the sea,
with a landscape of fragrant, gentle hills, fertile farmlands,
cultivated country estates, and fruit-laden orchards. It produces the
world-renowned Kent hops, and some of our country’s finest ales
and wines come from its numerous vineyards. It’s the home of
both the spellbinding Canterbury Cathedral and the White Cliffs of
Dover.”

“I’ve
heard of the White Cliffs.”

“How did you
hear about them?”

“I was bored a
lot in school. Did a lot of net surfing. I found it on one of my
landmarks kicks.” He stepped closer, and I shivered in a way
that had nothing to do with the chill. “I found out they are
composed of chalk. I thought that was pretty cool when I was a kid.”

“You are still
a kid.”

“No, I’m
not, shug,” he said, while I watched the wind playing with the
thick hair falling across his shoulders. “The English Channel
is narrowest there,” he continued in a musing tone. “Lots
of invasions from Europe. I read people watched dogfights from the
White Cliffs during the Battle of Britain. I got curious and looked
up more information. You guys were pretty brave during most of your
wars, ah, even in the Revolutionary War, but especially in World War
II. It’s impressive.”

“Ha! You
Yanks. Yes, you bested us during the American Rebellion. Really, we
had bigger problems back then, as I believe our history shows. We
weren’t too affected by it.”

“You have to
say that because we kicked your ass.”

“Perhaps
that’s true, but we’re friends now.” He smiled and
nodded. “And, yes, we’re a tough and stoic people and all
that. Did you ever go?”

“To the
cliffs?”

I nodded.

He shrugged. “No,
I couldn’t travel because we were too poor, so I went there in
my imagination.”

“Your
imagination.”

“Yeah, it
worked well for Max.”

“Who’s
Max?”

“The kid in
the book
Where
the Wild Things Are
.”

“Oh, yes, I
know that book.”

“It’s
something I learned from the book. Imagination is a powerful thing.
You must believe in that.”

Because I was
melting inside, I felt the need for armor. “I don’t go
for fanciful notions, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, that’s
not what I mean,” he said impatiently. “I’m wearing
something that you conjured up in your imagination. I’ve been
looking at concrete proof of it all day today.”

My heart beat triple
time. “You are very clever, aren’t you?”

He unfolded his arms
and leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Why don’t you hang
with me and find out for yourself?”

I turned away,
changing the subject to something less volatile and intimate. “The
cliffs are a well-known landmark. My da owns a vineyard between Dover
and Folkestone. It’s where I grew up.”

“So different
from the bayou. Sounds like a place I’d love to visit.”

“It’s
incredibly different from the bayou’s lovely, hanging moss and
mysterious swamp. Maybe someday you’ll be able to go there.”

He gave me an
assessing look. “Maybe, if you’ll go with me.”

“You are a
persistent one,” I said as a flash went off and my gut
tightened.

Damn, Kathy Stokes,
busybody fashion elitist, stood on the balcony and said, “Mr.
West, I’d like a word with you.”

I took that as my
cue to leave. Even as Deke gave me a pleading look, I passed the
jacket back to him, ducking back inside. It was bad enough that
busybody fashion reporter saw me with him…alone…in the
moonlight. Grabbing another flute of champagne, I decided that drunk
was preferable to feeling sorry for myself.

Hours later, I
wasn’t feeling any pain, and most of the guests had left.
Braxton and River Pearl had gone up to their room an hour ago. I saw
Boone and Verity heading that way, and the caterers were cleaning up
the kitchen and living room areas. As I ushered them and the last
guests out of the penthouse, Deke came down the stairs dressed in the
clothes he’d arrived in.

I thought he had
slipped out long ago, but unfortunately he hadn’t.

He brushed past me
and settled on the couch. Actually, he sprawled, legs apart, his
groin accentuated by the way his sexy jeans tightened over his man
parts.

“It’s
getting late,” I said.

“It’s
barely eleven.”

“Don’t
you have classes tomorrow?”

“Yes, but not
until the afternoon.”

Deke. Decon West.
Eighteen-year-old
Deke, a freshman at Columbia, I reminded myself. Brains to go with
all that brawn, and there was a lot of it. Six feet four inches of
it. The alcohol I’d consumed was making things a bit muzzy.

He looked sexy and
sleepy, a take-his-time-kind of guy. Which was strange, because he
was so young. Most young men were all about getting somewhere fast.
He took up way more space than you’d expect, too, so my world
seemed to narrow down to only him.

“I won’t
protest too much if you come over here and kiss me. I have a powerful
craving for you, Minnie. I think you have the same kind of craving.”

I was riveted to the
spot, my heart slamming against my chest. His confidence was
astounding for one so young. There was nothing to build my resistance
on here.

Back in Suttontowne
I had absorbed everything I could about him while I visited Verity.
He was solid, dependable, and sweet. No one had anything terrible—or
even half-hearted—to say about Deke. And I'd heard plenty. “He
knows where he’s going and what he wants.” “That
boy has a head on his shoulders and his heart in the right place.”
“He’s not a heartbreaker. He’s a heartrocker. Rocks
my heart hard.”

He sat forward, and
a tendril of his burnished hair escaped the band and brushed the
golden stubble on his face. He’d pulled it back, leaving his
striking face exposed, his broad shoulders filling out the simple
blue button shirt he wore tucked into his jeans.

“Aw, come on,
girl. I don’t bite.” He gave me a playful look that
pulled on me. I took a step forward. “Well, only a little. And,
from the way you been studying my mouth ever since we laid eyes on
each other, I can deduce that you want to see what ol’ Deke has
to offer.”

With the coolest,
frostiest voice I possessed, my British accent icing over, I said,
“Are you thickening your accent on purpose?”

“I’m
turned on. That usually does the trick.”

“That country
boy thing really works for you, doesn’t it?”

He smiled, and I
decided his smile really worked for him, too. God, I wanted to
release all that hair. Had been dying to since I first laid eyes on
him in Suttontowne.

“That’s
a nice accent you got going there, too. But you ain’t foolin’
me, Minnie. I see the heat in your eyes.”

I had inadvertently
gotten too close, and the long reach of his arm snagged my hand. His
touch was warm and sent tingles all over my skin.